


Esarina Anastasia of Volstov, first of her name

by nerakrose



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Genre: Anastasia/Niko, Antoinette POV, Antoinette/Niko, F/F, Niko dies I'm sorry, there's some grief and processing here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 10:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerakrose/pseuds/nerakrose
Summary: Anastasia leaves Thremedon in Antoinette's capable hands while she leads an army against Cheongju pirates.





	Esarina Anastasia of Volstov, first of her name

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place four months post-canon.

There was little sign of spring in the air, but Antoinette knew it was coming. Anastasia changed with the seasons in small, almost imperceptible, ways, and spring was coming; her rosy cheeks glowed with the spirit of rosebuds, and her eyes shone with the light of the morning sun.

"Antoinette, my sweet," said Anastasia, still looking out the window, over the vast courtyard and to the city beyond. In the far distance the sea glittered in the sun. A single ship sat on it, sails raised. The colours were not discernible, neither was the make of the vessel.

"Your majesty," Antoinette replied.

This, at last, had Anastasia turn from the window. "Don't you think that the time has come to drop formality between us at last?" She gestured for Antoinette to join her by the window. "Thirty years, you've been mistress to my husband and to me. Thirty years you've been our closest friend, confidante, and adviser. Will you have me wait another thirty years before you address me as your love?"

"I'm not a creature of habit in any way but this." Antoinette took Anastasia's hand, bringing it to her lips. "I respect you too much to want to address you like an equal; I don't wish that kind of scandal upon you. There's also the scandal of putting a _velikaia_ in charge of the administration. It's unprecedented."

"We're long past scandal." Anastasia smiled. Faint wrinkles appeared around her mouth, and creases by her eyes. She was still the most beautiful woman Antoinette had ever had the privilege of setting her eyes upon. "I am leaving in the morning, and I'm leaving you in charge. I trust you to handle all matters of the state, including the dragons. We may need the new dragon corps sooner rather than later."

"I can't persuade you to send somebody else in your stead?"

"I can't pull Étienne out of Arlemagne. We cannot afford to lose their friendship and alliance, not at this time." She turned towards the window again, drawing her hand neatly out of Antoinette's grasp. "Niko may pass any day now."

"He may yet wake up."

Anastasia shook her head. "Tomorrow it's four months. The physicians say..." she drew in a shuddering breath, then steeled herself. "I'm the Esarina, so I shall go."

"To lead an armada against the pirates?!" Antoinette clenched her hands in her skirts, not caring if she'd muss up the silk. "I can't in good faith advise you to go -"

"Enough." Anastasia didn't move, but the grey of her eyes was flint. "I have made my decision."

"As you wish." Antoinette retreated, leaving Anastasia by the window. The ship on the sea was tipping over the horizon.

~

The Esar passed in the morning. Antoinette packed her grief away in a skein of yarn and sent a letter to Arlemagne.

Anastasia swapped her cream and gold out for black and ivory. She boarded the ship with her hair down and her face veiled, Niko's sword at her side. Antoinette watched her go, heart heavy and head held high; she'd make sure there would still be a kingdom for the Esarina to come home to.

~

_My sweet,_

_I am battle weary. I find myself lingering over memories of your neck, that exquisite curve it forms along your shoulder to your ear, and then I find myself wondering what your ear looks like. I have laid eyes upon it a thousand times, put my mouth on it a thousand times more, and I can't recall the exact shape of it. I remember that Niko had large ears, and that the left one had a bump._

_I have retaken the Kiril Islands. We shall see each other soon._

_Yours,_  
_A-_

~

Étienne took after his mother; pale and fair haired and of slim frame. He had Anastasia's slender hands and soft mouth. From Niko he had inherited only a faint scattering of freckles across his nose.

When he spoke, it was soft but firm, gentle but steely. He took his tea in the same manner as his mother: smokey black tea with dark brown sugar, and Antoinette felt her heart constrict with how much she missed her, and with how much she missed Niko. Étienne was a poor substitute.

He stayed only for the funeral.

She went to see Dmitri, ostensibly a formal visit - a matter of business for the Provost - and not a social call to her son. He took after Niko, shock of red hair and stocky frame, but it was a familiar likeness, almost comfortable.

"What have you for me?" he asked, when she stepped inside his office. His desk was covered in paperwork, there was a pot of tea holding down several copies of the paper, and one of his Wolves was leaning against the desk. Dmitri dismissed the Wolf, who touched the brim of his hat in greeting to Antoinette before he left the office, closing the door behind him.

Antoinette went and stood behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Nothing." She put her nose in his hair.

Dmitri hesitated, then: "Tea?"

She smiled. "No, thank you."

~

_My sweet,_

_You know I cannot stand jasmine, but today I caught the fragrance of it on the wind. We are near the east coast of Jikji, and I've convinced myself the white I can see in the distance are the blooms of jasmine and apple. My heart has swollen so much with love for you that I can hardly bear it and I'm concerned it will not survive the distance I've put between us. I've found myself on deck more often than not hoping to catch another whiff of jasmine so that I may close my eyes and pretend you're by my side._

_Were it not for the lulling of the waves I should forget where I am and wake up believing I am at home, that Niko is only in the next room and you in my chamber. I dream of it, and then I wake and realise it is not so. My hands are callused. Our campaign here is not finished._

_We shall see each other soon._

_Yours,_  
_A-_

~

The clatter and clash of the metal dragons was audible even as the dragons themselves remained out of sight behind Greylace manor. The air smelled of copper and magic, and the grounds bore marks of several hard landings.

"Must be dire if you've come out here yourself," Adamo said. Behind him the four little dragons and their handlers were squabbling like chickens.

"The Esarina needs you," Antoinette said, dismounting her mare. "I need a fresh horse and for you lot to follow me to Thremedon. There's a small fleet of Cheongju pirate ships headed straight for us. The Esarina is chasing them, but there's no time to waste."

Adamo whistled, and with an alarming speed the squabbling chickens resolved themselves into four dragons with four riders on their backs, sitting in a neat line and ready to take off into the air. Another whistle produced two saddled horses, led forwards by a member of the former dragon corps.

"Wonderful." Antoinette let her relief show only briefly, then swung herself into the saddle of her new horse. "Let's go."

~

Anastasia's mourning dress was in tatters and her veil had been repurposed into a net to keep her hair pinned to her head. She was bloodied, dirty, and _alive_. The smouldering ruins of the pirate ships sent up pillars of black smoke behind her, beacons of her victory as far as the eye could reach, and further yet.

"Your majesty." Antoinette curtsied and led her into the chaise that would take her to the palace. "Welcome home."

The chaise took the long route back, through streets crammed full of people cheering for their Esarina. Anastasia held her chin high, sword resting on her lap. Antoinette watched her go, then turned away. Lines of prisoners knelt on the waterfront, shackled and defeated. The dragons had taken the air again, circling the the city.

Dmitri would handle things from here. Antoinette claimed another chaise and hastened to the palace, to her Esarina. To Anastasia.

~

The colours in the courtyard hadn't turned yet, but autumn was on the threshold. Antoinette could see it in Anastasia's face, despite the fact she was still grimy from battle and holding Niko's sword; her eyes were a dark steely blue, her cheeks pale and her mouth drawn. Pillars of smoke rose from the harbour, and the fleeting shadows over the rooftops betrayed the dragons still in the air.

She didn't speak when Antoinette entered. In her hands she held a shawl she'd knitted, during her months of waiting. It was black and cream, full of her grief and longing. She'd thought about gifting it to Dmitri but she'd never admitted to him who his father really was; it didn't feel right. 

It would be a homecoming gift for Anastasia.

"Anastasia." Antoinette closed the distance between them. She raised her hand to Anastasia's cheek; a tear had made its path there, and Antoinette wiped it away.

Something violent was going on inside Anastasia's chest, it was heaving and trembling, shattering the ideal of her composed figure. With a shuddering breath, she dropped the sword and flung her arms around Antoinette's neck.

She sobbed like she hadn't on the morning of her husband's death, like she hadn't when she'd left Antoinette on the quay, like she hadn't when she'd borne down on the pirates at the shores of Volstov and cut them down.

"My love," Antoinette whispered in her ear, holding Anastasia close.The sobs intensified.

Antoinette's heart was finally quiet.

"You're home," Antoinette said, and kissed her veiled hair. "You're home."

Finally, Anastasia's tears subsided. "My sweet Antoinette," she said, voice raw. "You're wearing jasmine."

Antoinette chuckled, and spread the shawl over Anastasia's shoulders. "I hope you won't hold it against me."

"Never again." Anastasia pulled the shawl closed, and then she kissed Antoinette. "My sweet. Will you call for the servants? Have them bring up the tea I brought from Jikji, and run me a bath. I also need a change of clothes." She pulled off the veil, releasing her golden curls. There was more grey streaked in her hair now. Not all of it could be dirt.

"Of course." Antoinette put her fingers through Anastasia's curls. "Your majesty."

"Please don't," Anastasia said, her voice breaking.

"All right," Antoinette said after a while. "I won't."

Antoinette left her. When she returned later, Anastasia was already in the bath, and a pot of steaming tea was sitting by the tub.

She took a seat by the tub, putting her hand on top of Anastasia's as it rested on the edge. The water was already murky, but the outline of her body was clearly visible. "Tea?"

Anastasia nodded. Antoinette served the tea, and Anastasia sat up to drink it. Her hair formed bright tendrils in the water. She blew on the tea, which was a stormy dark grey in colour, and took a sip.

"May I wash your hair?"

"Taste this tea first." Anastasia held the cup out to Antoinette.

It smelled like salt and smoke. It tasted like ashes and brine.

"It's an acquired taste," Anastasia said and took the cup back. "I find it suits me." She took another sip, the lines in her face smoothing out as she relaxed into the tub and her cup of stormy tea.

"It suits you," Antoinette agreed. Anastasia might look dainty and fragile, but Antoinette knew she wasn't; she was a wild, fierce spirit oddly matched with a body too small and fair to contain all of her. The people used to say she was no match for Niko, but the opposite had been true: _Niko_ had been no match for _her_.

Now all she was left with was Antoinette, who stood tall and dark, _velikaia_ badge on her chest. Her husband's mistress. The mother of her husband's other son. The scandal. The woman who'd been in charge of an entire kingdom, waiting for her Esarina to come home.

"I love you," Antoinette said.

Anastasia put her cup down. "I know, my sweet." She tugged the pin in Antoinette's hair loose, letting her curls fall freely. "I may publish another volume of poems."

"I thought you were writing a series of romans?" Antoinette leaned over the tub so she could kiss her. Her curls trailed into the water, where they mixed with Anastasia's golden ones. "Which is the subject?"

"My loves," Anastasia replied, cupping Antoinette's face. Her thumb stroked Antoinette's cheek. "The first one is about you."


End file.
